Chapter IX: Part 9

HERALD. So be it: but, in Argos or in Africk, My own's my own.

KING. Who touches these reaps harm, And that right soon.

HERALD. No friendly word thou speak'st, To welcome strangers.

KING. Strangers are welcome here; But not to spoil the gods.

HERALD. These words of thine To Ægyptus' sons be spoken, not to me.

KING. I take no counsel, or from them, or thee.

HERALD. Thou--who art thou? for I must plainly make Rehearsal to my masters--this my office Enforces--both by whom, and why, unjustly I of this kindred company of women Am robbed. A serious strife it is; no bandying Of words from witnesses, no silver passed From hand to hand will lay such ugly strife; But man for man must fall, and noblest souls Must dash their lives away.

KING. For what I am, You, and your shipmates, soon enough shall know me. These maids, if with the softly suasive word Thou canst prevail, are thine; to force we never Will yield the suppliant sisters; thus the people With one acclaim have voted; 'tis nailed down Thus to the letter. So it must remain. {249} Thou hast my answer, not in tablets graven, Or in the volumed scroll, all stamped and sealed, But from a free Greek mouth. Dost understand me? Hence quickly from my sight!

HERALD. Of this be sure, A war thou stirrest, in which, when once begun, The males will be the stronger.

KING. We, too, have males In Argos, lusty-blooded men, who drink Good wine, not brewed from barley.[f22] As for you, Ye virgins, fearless follow where these guides Shall lead. Our city strongly girt with wall, And high-reared tower receives you. We can boast Full many a stately mansion; stateliest piled My palace stands, work of no feeble hands. Right pleasant 'tis in populous floors to lodge With many a fellow-tenant: some will find A greater good in closely severed homes, That have no common gates: of these thou hast The ample choice: take what shall like thee most. Know me thy patron, and in all things know My citizens thy shield, whose vote hath pledged Thy safety; surer guarantee what wouldst thou?

CHORUS.
Blessing for thy blessing given,
Flow to thee, divine Pelasgian!
But for our advisal forthwith
Send, we pray thee, for our father;
He the firm, the far foreseeing,
How to live, and where to lodge us,
Duly shall direct. For ever
Quick to note the faults of strangers
Sways the general tongue; though we
Hope all that's good and best from thee.

KING.
(_to the attendant maids_)
Likewise you, ye maids attendant
For his daughters' service, wisely
Portioned by the father, here
Be your home secure,
Far from idle-bruited babblings,
'Neath my wing to dwell!

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[_Enter_ DANAUS, _attended by an Argive guard._

DANAUS. Daughters! if so the Olympian gods deserve Your sacrifices, your libations, surely Argos no less may claim them! Argos truly Your Saviour in worst need! With eager ears They drank my tale, indignant the foul deeds Of our fell-purposed cousinship they heard, And for my guard this goodly band they set me Of strong spear-bearing men, lest being slain By the lurking lance of some insidious foe My death bring shame to Argos. Such high honor, From hearts where kindness moves the friendly deed, They heaped the sire withal, that you, the daughters, In father's stead should own them. For the rest, To the chaste precepts graven on your heart That oft I gave, one timely warning add, That time, which proveth all, approve your lives Before this people; for 'gainst the stranger, calumny Flows deftly from the tongue, and cheap traducement Costs not a thought. I charge ye, therefore, daughters, Your age being such that turns the eyes of men To ready gaze, in all ye do consult Your father's honor: such ripe bloom as yours No careless watch demands: so fair a flower Wild beasts and men, monsters of all degrees, Winged and four-footed, wantonly will tear. Her luscious-dropping fruits the Cyprian[f23] hangs In the general view, and publishes their praise;[n54] That whoso passes, and beholds the pomp Of shapeliest beauty, feels the charmed dart That shoots from eye to eye, and vanquished falls By strong desire. Give, therefore, jealous heed That our long toils, and ploughing the deep sea Not fruitless fall; but be your portment such As breeds no shame to us, nor to our enemies Laughter. A double lodgment for our use, One from the state, the other from the king, Rentless we hold. All things look bright. This only, Your father's word, remember. More than life Hold a chaste heart in honor.

CHORUS. The high Olympians Grant all thy wish! For us and our young bloom, {251} Fear nothing, father: for unless the gods Have forged new counsels, we ev'n to the end Will tread the trodden path, and will not bend.

CHORAL HYMN.[n55]
STROPHE I.
SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Lift ye the solemn hymn!
High let your pæans brim!
Praise in your strain
Gods that in glory reign
High o'er the Argive plain,
High o'er each castled hold,
Where Erasinus old[f24]
Winds to the main!

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
(_to the attendant maids_)
Sing, happy maids, with me!
Loud with responsive glee
Voice ye the strain!
Praise ye the Argive shore,
Praise holy Nile no more,
Wide where his waters roar,
Mixed with the main!

ANTISTROPHE I.
SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Lift ye the solemn hymn!
High let your pæans brim!
Praise in your strain
Torrents that bravely swell
Fresh through each Argive dell,
Broad streams that lazily
Wander, and mazily
Fatten the plain.

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
Sing, sisters, sing with me
Artemis chaste! may she
List to the strain!
Never, O never may
Marriage with fearful sway
Bind me; nor I obey
Hatefullest chain!

STROPHE II.
SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Yet, mighty praise be thine[n56]
Cyprian queen divine!
Hera, with thee I join,
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Nearest to Jove.
Subtly conceiving all,
Wiseliest weaving all,
Thy will achieving all
Nobly by love!

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
With thee Desire doth go;
Peitho,[f25] with suasive flow
Bending the willing foe,
Marches with thee.
Lovely Harmonia[n57]
Knows thee; and, smote with awe,
Strong kings obey the law
Whispered by thee.

STROPHE IV.
SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Yet must I fear the chase,[n58]
Sail spread in evil race,
War with a bloody pace
Spurred after me.
Why to this Argive shore
Came they with plashing oar,
If not with sorrow's store
Treasured for me?

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
Comes fated good or ill,
Wait we in patience still!
No power may thwart his will
Jove, mighty Jove.
Laden with sorrow's store
Virgins in days of yore
Praised, when their grief was o'er,
Jove, mighty Jove.

SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Jove, mighty Jove, may he
From wedded force for me
Rescue prepare!

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
Fair fall our maiden lot!
But mighty Jove may not
Yield to thy prayer.

SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Know'st thou what woes may be
Stored yet by Fate for me?

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
Jove and his hidden plan
Sight of the sharpest man
Searcheth in vain;
Thou in thy narrow span
Wisely remain!

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SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Wisely my thought may fare
Tell me, O tell me where?

SEMI-CHORUS 2.
'Gainst what the gods ordain
Fret not thy heart in vain!

STROPHE.
SEMI-CHORUS 1.
Save me, thou chief of gods, great Jove,
From violent bonds of hated love,
Even as the Inachian maid of yore
Thy hand set free from labour sore,
What time thou soothed with touch divine
Her weary frame,
And with a friendly force benign
Thy healing came.

ANTISTROPHE.
SEMI-CHORUS 2.
May the woman's cause prevail!
And, when two certain ills assail,
Be ours the less: and Justice fair
For the just shall still declare.
Ye mighty gods o'er human fates
Supremely swaying,
On you my prayer, my fortune waits,
Your will obeying.

[The End]

THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

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A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

I cannot think but curses climb the sky, And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. SHAKESPERE.

Alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.
GOETHE.

PERSONS

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ETEOCLES, Son of Oedipus. MESSENGER. CHORUS OF THEBAN VIRGINS. ISMENE and ANTIGONE, Sisters of Eteocles. HERALD.

SCENE--_The Acropolis of Thebes._

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

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ONE of the most indisputable laws of the moral world, and, when seriously considered, perhaps the most awful one, is that principle of hereditary dependence, which connects the sins of one generation, and often of one individual, by an indissoluble bond, with the fortunes of another. In the closely compacted machinery of the moral world no man can be ignorant, or foolish, or vicious to himself. The most isolated individual by the very act of his existence, as he necessarily inhales, so he likewise exhales, a social atmosphere, either healthy so far, or so far unhealthy, for the race. Nothing in the world is independent either of what co-exists with it, or of what precedes it. The present, in particular, is everywhere at once the child of the past, and the parent of the future. It is no doubt true that a foolish father does not always beget a foolish son. There are counteracting influences constantly at work to prevent the fatal tendency to degeneration, of which Horace speaks so feelingly--

Aetas parentum pejor avis tulit
Nos nequiores, mox daturos
Progeniem vitiosiorem,

but the "Delicta majorum immeritus lues" of the same poet remains a fearful reality in the daily administration of the world, which no serious-thinking man can afford to disregard. In the ancient law of Moses, as in the most famous systems of Christian theology, this principle plays a prominent part; and awful as its operation is, often sweeping whole generations into ruin, and smiting whole nations with a chronic leprosy, for the folly or extravagance of an ephemeral individual, we shall not be surprised to find it equally conspicuous in the literature of so subtle a people as the Greeks. The Hellenic mind, no doubt, was too sunny and too healthy to allow itself to be encased and imprisoned with this idea, as with an iron mail; but as a mysterious dark background of moral existence it was recognised in its highest power; and nowhere so distinctly, and with such terrible iteration, as in those lyrical exhibitions of solemn, religious, and legendary faith, which we call tragedy.

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Among the other serious ethico-religious legends with which the scanty remains of the rich Greek tragedy have made us more familiar, the dark fates of two famous families--the Pelopidae and the Labdacidae--force themselves upon our attention with a marked distinctness. How the evil genius (ἀλάστωρ) of inherited guilt revealed itself in the blood-stained track of the descendants of Tantalus we have seen on the large scale of a complete trilogy; the play to which we now introduce the reader is an exhibition of the same stern law of moral concatenation, in one of the scenes of the dark story of the Theban family of the Labdacidae. Labdacus, the father of this unfortunate race, is traced back in the legendary genealogy to the famous Phœnician settler, Cadmus, being removed from him by only one generation.[f1] This head of the family appears tainted with no moral guilt of an extraordinary kind; but his son Laius figures in the legend, not like Pelops in the Pelopidan story, as a murderer, but as a licentious and a lustful character. Yielding to the violent impulses of unnatural passion,[f2] he is said to have carried off from Elis, Chrysippus, the son of Pelops; whereupon the injured father pronounced against the unholy ravisher the appropriate curse that he should die childless, or, if he did beget children, that himself should lose his life by the hands of those to whom he had been the means of giving it. We see here exemplified that grand principle of retaliation (_lex talionis_), "_An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth_," which stands out so prominently in the laws of Moses, and is so agreeable to the moral instincts of the human heart. Laius was to perish by his own progeny, because, in the irregular gratification of the procreative instinct, he had sinned against Nature. The curse spoken against him by Pelops was the wrathful expression of one of Nature's greatest laws; in whatever way we seek violently to obtain happiness contrary to the sober course of the divine arrangements, in that way we are sure with our own hands to work our own destruction. This is inevitable. Accordingly, that the direct sanction of the gods might be added to the utterance of an aggrieved human heart, the legend represents the lustful offender as consulting the oracle of Delphi, whether he might not with safety disregard the imprecation of Pelops, and beget children by his wife Iocaste (called Epicaste in Homer, Od. XI. 271); and receiving the ominous answer--

Sow not the seed of children, in despite
Of the gods: for if thou shalt beget a son,
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Him who begat shall the begotten slay,
And all thy house in bloody ruin perish.[f3]

But the divine oracle, as was to have been expected from the character of the questioner, was given in vain. Laius had consulted the oracle not that he might know and obey the divine will, but that he might, if possible, escape from the terrible consequences of the curse of Pelops, and yet gratify his natural desire of having offspring. The result was natural. In a moment of forgetfulness, induced by the free use of that mother of many evils, wine, he neglected the divine warning; and, from his fatal embrace, a child was born, destined in the course of the accomplishment of the ancient curse, both to suffer many monstrous misfortunes in his own person, and to transmit guilt and misery to another generation. This child was Oedipus,[f4] so named from the piercing of his feet by nails, and subsequent exposure on Mount Cithaeron, a device contrived by his father, in order to escape the fulfilment of the divine oracle. But it is not possible, as Homer frequently inculcates, to deceive the mind of the gods. The helpless infant, the child of destiny, is found (like Romulus), by some shepherds, and by them taken to Polybus king of Corinth. Here the foundling is brought up as the son of that monarch; but, on one occasion, being taunted by some of his youthful comrades with the reproach that he is not really the son of Polybus, but a fatherless foundling, he goes forth to the oracle of Delphi, and to the wide world, to clear up what had been more wisely left in the dark; and here his god-sent misfortunes overtake him, and the evil genius of his father drives the innocent son blindfold into inevitable woe. The Pythoness, according to her wont, returned an answer more doubtful than the question. Oedipus was told not who his father was, but that a dark destiny hung over him, to kill his father, and to commit incest with his mother. Knowing no parents but those whom he had left at Corinth, he proceeded on his wanderings, in a direction the opposite of that by which he had come; and, on the road between Delphi and Daulis,[f5] met a person of consequence, with a charioteer and an attendant, in a car. The charioteer immediately ordered the foot traveller, somewhat insolently, after the manner of aristocratic satellites, to get out of the way; which rudeness the hot youth resenting, a scuffle ensued, in which the charioteer {260} and his master were slain, while the attendant fled. The murdered prince was Laius; and Oedipus, unwittingly, nay, doing everything he could to elude the fate, had slain his own father. But the ancient Fury, for a season, concealed her vengeance, and allowed a brief glory to be shed round her victim, that he might thereafter be plunged in more terrible darkness. The Sphynx, a monstrous creature, of Egyptian birth, half virgin, half lion, had been sent by wrathful Mars, to desolate the Theban country, devouring, with her bloody jaws, whosoever could not solve her famous riddle. When depopulation proceeded at a fearful rate from this cause, the Thebans promised Iocaste, the widow of Laius, and queen of the country, in marriage, to him who should succeed in explaining the enigma. Oedipus was successful; and, becoming king of Thebes, was married, in ignorance, to his own mother. Thus the net of destiny was drawn closer and closer round its victim; but the hour of doom was not yet come. Joined in this unnatural wedlock, the unfortunate son of Laius became the father of two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and of two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. Circumstances (which Sophocles narrates in his Oedipus Tyrannus) afterwards bringing the story of Oedipus' life and the nature of his connection with Iocaste to light, the unfortunate old king looking upon himself as an object of hatred to the gods, and unworthy to look upon the day, tore out his eyes, and was confined by his sons--whether from cruelty or superstition--in a separate house, and treated otherwise in a manner that appeared to him disrespectful and unkind.[f6] Enraged at this treatment, he pronounced an imprecation against them, that they should one day DIVIDE THEIR INHERITED LAND BY STEEL; whereupon they, to render any hostile collision impossible, made an agreement to exercise kingly authority over the whole Theban territory, each for a year at a time, while the other should leave the country. Eteocles, as the elder, reigned first; but when the appointed term came round, like other holders of power, he showed himself loath to quit; and Polynices, fleeing to Argos, sought assistance from Adrastus, king of that country. This prince, along with the Ætolian Tydeus, the father of Diomede, and other chiefs, marched against Thebes with a great armament, in order to force Eteocles to yield the yearly tenure of the throne to his brother, according to agreement. The appearance of this armament before the gates of the Cadmean city, and its sad issue, in the death, by their own {261} hands, of the two hostile brothers, form the subject of the present play.

From this rapid sketch, the reader will see plainly that the dismal story of Laius and Oedipus, and his children, affords materials for a whole series of tragedies; and that, in fact, "THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES" is only one of the last acts of a great consecutive legendary history, of which each part is necessary to explain the other. This close connection of the subjects naturally suggests the question, whether our play, as we now have it, stood alone in dramatic representation, or whether it was not only a subordinate part of a large dramatic whole. We know for certain that Æschylus wrote at least four plays, besides the present, of which the materials were taken from the cycle of this Theban legend--namely, LAIUS, OEDIPUS, THE SPHYNX, and the ELEUSINIANS;[f7] and it has been not unplausibly conjectured that some of his other plays, of which the names are preserved, belong to the same series.[f8] In what precise connection, however, the existing play stood to any of the rest in actual representation, there were, till very recently, no satisfactory means of judging; and accordingly no scanty wealth of erudite speculation (after the German fashion), made to look like science, was spent upon the subject. Now, at length it has been announced, that the διδασκαλία, containing the actual order of representation of four of these plays, has been discovered;[f9] and, if the document be genuine, we are enabled to assert that, in the 78th Olympiad, Æschylus gained the tragic prize with the tetralogy, of LAIUS, OEDIPUS, THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES, and the SPHYNX, a satiric drama.

With regard to the merits of the present piece, while its structure exhibits, in the most striking manner, the deficient skill of the early dramatists, its spirit is everywhere manly and noble, and instinct with the soul of the warlike actions which it describes. The best parts are epic, not dramatic--namely, those in which the Messenger describes the different characters and appearance of the seven chiefs posted each at a separate gate of the Cadmean city. The drama concludes with a Theban coronach or wail over the dead bodies of the self-slain brothers; for the proper relishing of which, the imaginative reproduction of some appropriate music is indispensable. The introduction after this of the Herald, announcing the decree of the Theban senate, whereby burial is denied to the body of Polynices, {262} and the heroic display of sisterly affection on the part of Antigone, are--if this really was the last piece of a trilogy--altogether foreign both to the action and to the tone of the tragedy, and must be regarded as a blunder. If Schiller, and even Shakespere, on occasions, could err in such matters, much more Æschylus.

THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

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ETEOCLES. Ye citizens of Cadmus! he who sits Holding the helm in the high poop of state, Watchful, with sleepless eyes, must, when he speaks, Speak words that suit the time. If we succeed, The gods will have the praise; but should we fail (Which may averting Jove from me avert,[n1] And from this Theban city!), I alone Must bear the up-heaped murmurings of the whole, A motley-voiced lament. Ye men of Thebes, Not manhood's vigour only, but ye also Who lack ripe years, and ye whose green old age Nurses unwithered strength,[f10] arm, and redeem Your country's honor from a cruel blot. Let not the citadel of your ancient sires, The altars of your native gods, your children, Nor the dear mother Earth, that nursed you, blame The slackness of your love--the nurse who bore Your creeping childhood on her fostering soil, And through your slow growth up to firmer years, Toiled that the strong arms of her faithful sons, Might shield her need. Up to this hour the god Inclines to us; though close hedged in by the foe, The vantage hath been ours. But now the seer, The shepherd of prophetic birds' revolving In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths,[n2] By no false art, though without help from fire, Even he soothsaying sings that the Argive camp Holds midnight council to attack the city. Therefore be ready; mount the battlements; Top every tower; crown every parapet; Fence every gate with valiant-hearted men, Well harnessed for the fight: and never fear This trooping alien foe. The gods will give A happy issue. Myself have sent out scouts, Sure men, not wont to linger. Their advice Shall shield us from surprise.

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[_Enter_ MESSENGER.

MESSENGER. Eteocles, Most excellent lord of Thebes! what I have seen With mine own eyes, no idle unvouched tale, I bring thee from the camp. Seven warlike chiefs I saw, in solemn sacrifice assembled: Holding the head of the devoted ox, Over the shield with iron rimmed they dipped Their hands in the steaming blood, and swore an oath, By Mars, Enýo, and blood-loving Terror,[n3] Either to raze the walls of Thebes, and plunder The citadel of Cadmus, or else drench This soil with Argive blood. Then, as for death Prepared, they decked the chariot of Adrastus[n4] With choice love-tokens to their Argive kin, Dropping a tear, but with their mouths they gave No voice. An iron-hearted band are they, Breathing hot war, like lions when their eye Looks instant battle. Such my news; nor I Slow to report; for in the camp I left them Eager to share among their several bands Our gates by lot. Therefore, bestir thee; fence Each gate with the choicest men: dash all delay; For now the Argive host, near and more near, All panoplied comes on; the dark-wreathed dust Rolls, and the snowy foam of snorting chargers Stains the pure Theban soil. Like a wise pilot That scents the coming gale, hold thou the city Tight, ere the storm of Ares on our heads Burst pitiless. Loud the mainland wave is roaring. This charge be thine: myself, a sleepless spy, Will bring thee sure word from the hostile camp: Safe from without, so ye be strong within. [_Exit._

ETEOCLES. O Jove! O Earth! O Gods that keep the city! And thou fell Fury of my father's curse![f11] Destroy not utterly this Cadméan seat Rent, razed, deracinated by the foe! Yield not our pious hearths, where the loved speech Of Hellas echoes, to a stranger host! Let not the free-born Theban bend the neck, To slavery thralled, beneath a tyrant's yoke! Be ye our strength! our common cause we plead; A prosperous state hath cause to bless the gods. [_Exit._

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I. _The_ CHORUS[n5] _enter the scene in great hurry and agitation._

O wailing and sorrow, O wailing and woe! Their tents they have left, many-banded they ride, And onward they tramp with the prance of pride, The horsemen of the foe. The dark-volumed dust-cloud that rides on the gale, Though voiceless, declares a true messenger's tale; With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride;[n6] It swells on my ear, loud it rusheth and roareth, As a fierce wintry torrent precipitous poureth, Rapidly lashing the mountain side.

Hear me ye gods, and ye goddesses hear me! The black harm prevent that swells near and more near me! As a wave on the shore when the blast beats the coast, So breaks o'er the walls, from the white-shielded host,[n7] The eager war-cry, the sharp cry of fear, As near still it rolls, and more near.

II. _The_ CHORUS _become more and more agitated. They speak one to another in short hurried exclamations, and in great confusion._

CHORUS 1. To which of the gods and the goddesses now Shall I pay my vow?

CHORUS 2. Shall I cling to the altar, and kneeling embrace The guardian gods of the Theban race?

TUTTI. Ye blissful Olympians, throned sublime, In the hour of need, in the urgent time, May the deep drawn sigh, And the heart's strong cry Ascend not in vain to your seats sublime!

CHORUS 1. Heard ye the shields rattle, heard ye the spear? In this dark day of dole, With chaplet and stole[n8] Let us march to the temples, and worship in fear!

CHORUS 2. I heard the shield's rattle, and spear clashed on spear Came stunning my ear.

TUTTI. O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold,[n9] Thine own chosen city wilt thou behold To slavery sold? O Ares, Ares, wilt thou betray Thy Theban home to-day?

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III. _The_ CHORUS _crown the altars of the gods, and then, falling on their knees, sing the following Theban Litany, in one continuous chaunt._

Patron gods that keep the city,
Look, look down upon our woe,
Save this band of suppliant virgins
From the harsh-enslaving foe!
For a rush of high-plumed warriors
Round the city of the free,
By the blast of Ares driven,
Roars, like billows of the sea.
Father Jove the consummator,[f12]
Save us from the Argive spear;
For their bristling ranks enclose us,
And our hearts do quake with fear,
And their steeds with ringing bridles[n10]
Knell destruction o'er the land;
And seven chiefs, with lance in hand,
Fixed by lot to share the slaughter,
At the seventh gate proudly stand.
Save us, Pallas, war-delighting
Daughter of immortal Jove!
Save us, lord of billowy ocean!
God of pawing steeds, Poseidon,[n11]
Join thine aid to his above,
And with thy fish-piercing trident
Still our hearts, our fears remove.
Save us Ares! father Ares,
Father now thy children's need!
Save us Cypris, mother of Thebans,[n12]
For we are thy blood indeed!
Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo,[n13]
Be a wolf against the foe!
Whet thine arrows, born of Leto,
Leto's daughter bend thy bow!

IV. _The Litany is here interrupted by the noise of the besiegers storming the city, and is continued in a hurried irregular manner._

CHORUS 1. I hear the dread roll of the chariots of war!

TUTTI. O holy Hera!

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CHORUS 2. And the axles harsh-creaking with dissonant jar!

TUTTI. O Artemis dear!

CHORUS 1. And the vext air is madded with quick-brandished spears.

SEMI-CHORUS 1. To Thebes, our loved city, what hope now appears?

SEMI-CHORUS 2. And when shall the gods bring an end of our fears?

CHORUS 1. Hark! hark! stony hail the near rampart is lashing!

TUTTI. O blest Apollo!

CHORUS 2. And iron-bound shield against shield is clashing!

TUTTI. The issue of war with the gods abideth, The doubtful struggle great Jove decideth. O Onca, blest Onca,[n14] whose worshippers ever Invoke thee, the queen of the Oncan gate, The seven-gated city deliver, deliver,[n15] Thou guardian queen of the gate.

V. _The_ CHORUS _unite again into a full band, and sing the Finale of the Litany in regular Strophe and Antistrophe._

STROPHE.
Gods and goddesses almighty!
Earthly and celestial powers!
Of all good things consummators,
Guardians of the Theban towers!
Save the spear-encompassed city
From a foreign-speaking foe![n16]
Hear the virgin band, that prays thee
With the out-stretched arms of woe!

ANTISTROPHE.
Gods and demigods! the city
Aid that on your aid depends,
Watch around us, and defend us;
He is strong whom God defends.
Bear the incense in remembrance
Of our public sacrifice;
From a people rich in offerings
Let no prayer unanswered rise!

[_Re-enter_ ETEOCLES.

ETEOCLES. Answer me this, insufferable brood! Is this your wisdom, this your safety-note {268} To Theban soldiers, this your war-cry, thus In prostrate woe clasping the guardian gods, To scream and wail the vain lament of fools? I pray the gods, in good or evil days, May never fate be mine to lodge with women. When fortune's brave, their pride's unbearable; But, comes a thought of fear, both hall and forum Must ring with their laments. Why run ye thus From street to street, into the hearts of men Scattering dastardy, and bruiting fear? Nay, but ye chiefly help the enemy's cause Without the gate, and we by friends within Are more besieged; such aid expect from women! Thebans give ear; whoso shall disobey My word in Thebes, man, woman, old, or young, Whoe'er he be, against himself he writes Black sentence to be stoned by the public hand. Without the gates let brave men fight; within Let women tend their children, and their webs. Hear ye, or hear ye not? or do I speak To the deaf?

STROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Son of Oedipus be witness!
Should not terror rob our wits,
When we hear the roll of chariots,
Whirling wheels, and creaking axles,
And the unresting tramp of horses
Champing fierce their fire-forged bits?

ETEOCLES. What then? when with the storm the good ship labours, Shall the wise helmsman leave his proper post, To clasp the painted gods upon the prow?[n17]

ANTISTROPHE I.
CHORUS.
When we heard war's rattling hail-drift
Round our ramparts wildly rave,
Trusting to the gods of Cadmus,
Spurred by fear, we hither hurried,
Here to pray, and clasp the statues
Of the good gods strong to save.

ETEOCLES. Pray that our well-manned walls be strong to save us, Else will the gods help little. Who knows not That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor?[n18]

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STROPHE II.
CHORUS.
Never, never may the council
Of the assembled gods desert us,
While I live, and look on day!
Never, never may the stranger
Rush through the streets, while midnight burning
Lights the robber to his prey!

ETEOCLES. Weak prayers confound wise counsel. Know ye not Obedience is the mother of success, And pledge of victory. So the wise have spoken.

ANTISTROPHE II.
CHORUS.
But the gods are strong. When mortals
Stretch the arm in vain to save us,
Help is waiting from above.
When dark night enveils the welkin,
And thick-mantled ruin gathers,
They enclasp us round with love.

ETEOCLES. Leave sacrifice and oracles to men, And 'gainst the imminent foe pray to the gods. Women should hold their tongues, and keep their homes.

STROPHE III.
CHORUS.
By the strength of gods the city
Each rude tide hath learnt to stem;
Who shall charge us with offending,
When we make our vows to them?

ETEOCLES. Your vows I grudge not, nor would stint your prayers; But this I say, blow not your fears about, Nor taint the general heart with apprehension.

ANTISTROPHE III.
CHORUS.
Startled by the blare of battle,
Hearing clash of combat fell,
With a quaking heart I hied me
To this sacred citadel.

ETEOCLES. And when ye hear that some are dead or wounded, Drag not the news with wailings through the town; For blood of mortals is the common food[n19] Of the war god.

CHORUS.
Hark! the angry steeds are snorting.

ETEOCLES. Hear what thou wilt; but do not hear aloud.

CHORUS. The Earth beneath me groans, the wall is shaking.

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ETEOCLES. The walls are mine to uphold. Pray you, be silent.

CHORUS. Woe's me, the clash of arms, loud and more loud, Rings at the gate!

ETEOCLES.
And thou the loudest!--Peace!

CHORUS. Great council of the gods, O save us! save us!

ETEOCLES. Perdition seize thee! thy words flow like water.

CHORUS. O patron gods, save me from captive chains!

ETEOCLES. Thy fear makes captive me, and thee, and all.

CHORUS. O mighty Jove, fix with thy dart the foe!

ETEOCLES. O Jove, of what strange stuff hast thou made women!

CHORUS. Men are no better, when their city's captured.

ETEOCLES. Dost clasp the gods again, and scream and howl?

CHORUS. Fear hurries on my overmastered tongue.

ETEOCLES. One small request I have; beseech you hear me.

CHORUS. Speak: I am willing, if I can, to please thee.

ETEOCLES. Please me by silence; do not fright thy friends.

CHORUS. I speak no more: and wait my doom with them.

ETEOCLES. This word is wiser than a host of wails. And now, instead of running to and fro, Clinging to every image as you pass, Pray to the gods with sober supplication, To aid the Theban cause: and, when ye hear My vow, lift up a blithe auspicious shout, A sacred hymn, a sacrificial cry, As brave Greek hearts are wont, whose voice shall speak Sure confidence to friends, and to the foe Dismay. Now, hear my vow. If they who keep The city, keep it now from the Argive spear, I vow to them, and to the patron gods Of field and forum, and the holy fount Of Dirce and Ismenus' sacred stream,[n20] That blood of lambs and bulls shall wash their altars, And spear-pierced trophies, Argive harnesses, Bedeck their holy halls. Such be your prayers; Not sighs and sobs, and frantic screams, that shake The hearts of men, but not the will of gods. Meanwhile, with six choice men, myself the seventh, I'll gallantly oppose these boastful chiefs That block our outlets. Timely thus I'll gag The swift-winged rush of various-bruited news, That in the hour of danger blazes fear. [_Exit._

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CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
Well thou speakest; but unsleeping
Terrors shake my virgin frame,
And the blasts of war around me
Fan my fears into a flame.
As the dove her dovelets nursing,
Fears the tree-encircling serpent,
Fatal neighbour of her nest;
Thus the foe, our walls enclosing,
Thrills with ceaseless fears my breast.
Hark I in hurrying throngs careering
Rude they beat our Theban towers,
And a rain of rock-torn fragments
On the roofs of Cadmus showers!
Save us, gods that keep the city,
Save us, Jove-begotten Powers!

ANTISTROPHE I.
Say what region shall receive ye,
When the Theban soil is waste?
When pure Dirce's fount is troubled,
From what waters shall ye taste?
Theban soil, the deepest, richest,
That with fruits of joy is pregnant,
Dirce, sweetest fount that runs,
From Poseidon earth-embracing,
And from Tethys' winding sons.[n21]
Patron-gods maintain your glory,
Sit in might enthroned to-day:
Smite the foe with fear; fear stricken
Let them fling their arms away:
Hear our sharp shrill-piercing wailings,
When for Cadmus' weal we pray!

STROPHE II.
Sad it were, and food for weeping,
To behold these walls Ogygian,
By the stranger spearman mounted,
Levelled by the Argive foe,
And these towers by god-sent vengeance
Laid in crumbling ashes low.
Sad it were to see the daughters,
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And the sonless mothers grey,
Of old Thebes, with hair dishevelled,
And rent vestments, even as horses
Dragged by the mane, a helpless prey;
Sad to hear the victors' clamour
Mingling with the captive's moan,
And the frequent-clanking fetter
Struggling with the dying groan.

ANTISTROPHE II.
Sad, most sad, should hands unlicensed
Rudely pluck our opening blossom;
Sad--yea better far to die!
Changing nuptial torch and chamber
For dark homes of slavery.
Ah! my soul within me trembles,
When it shapes the sight of shame,
Swift the chase of lawless murder,
And the swifter chase of flame;
Black the surly smoke upwreathing,
Cries, confusion, choking heat;
Shrine-polluting, man-subduing
Mars, wild borne from street to street!

STROPHE III.
Towers and catapults surrounding,
And the greedy spear upswallowing
Man by man, its gory food:
And the sucking infants clinging
To the breasts that cannot bear them,
Cries to ears that cannot hear them
Mingle with their mother's blood.
Plunder, daughter of Confusion,
Startles Plenty from his lair,
And the robber with the robber
Bargains for an equal share;
Gods! in such a night of terrors
How shall helpless maidens fare?

ANTISTROPHE III.
Planless is the strife of Plunder.
Fruits of patient years are trampled
Reckless in the moment's grave;
And the maids that tend the household,
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With a bitter eye of weeping,
See the treasured store of summers
Hurried by the barren wave.
Woe, deep woe, waits captive maidens,
To an untried thraldom led,
Bound, by chains of forced affection,
To some haughty husband's bed:
Sooner, sooner may I wander
Sister of the sunless dead!

SEMI-CHORUS 1. Methinks I see the scout sent by the king: Doubtless he brings us news; his tripping feet Come swift as wheels that turn on willing axles.

SEMI-CHORUS 2. The king himself, the son of Oedipus, Comes in the exact nick to hear his tidings: With rapid and unequal steps he too Urges the way.

[_Enter_ MESSENGER _and_ ETEOCLES _from opposite sides._

MESSENGER. What I have seen I come To tell; the movements of the foe, the station That lot hath given each champion at the gates. First at the Prœtian portal Tydeus stands,[n22] Storming against the seer, who wise forbids To pass Ismenus' wave, before the sacrifice Auspicious smiles. But he, for battle burning, Fumes like a fretful snake in the sultry noon, Lashing with gibes the wise Oiclidan seer,[n23] Whose prudence he interprets dastardy, Cajoling death away. Thus fierce he raves, And shakes the overshadowing crest sublime, His helmet's triple mane, while 'neath his shield The brazen bells ring fear.[n24] On his shield's face A sign he bears as haughty as himself, The welkin flaming with a thousand lights, And in its centre the full moon shines forth, Eye of the night, and regent of the stars. So speaks his vaunting shield: on the stream's bank He stands, loud-roaring, eager for the fight, As some fierce steed that frets against the bit, And waits with ruffling neck, and ears erect, To catch the trumpet's blare. Who will oppose This man? what champion, when the bolts are broken, Shall plant his body in the Prœtian gate?

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ETEOCLES. No blows I fear from the trim dress of war, No wounds from blazoned terrors. Triple crests And ringing bells bite not without the spear; And for this braggart shield, with starry night Studded, too soon for the fool's wit that owns it The scutcheon may prove seer. When death's dark night Shall settle on his eyes, and the blithe day Beams joy on him no more, hath not the shield Spoken significant, and pictured borne A boast against its bearer? I, to match This Tydeus, will set forth the son of Astacus, A noble youth not rich in boasts, who bows Before the sacred throne of Modesty, In base things cowardly, in high virtue bold. His race from those whom Ares spared he draws,[n25] Born from the sown field of the dragon's teeth, His name Melanippus. Mars shall throw the dice Bravely for him, and Justice call him brother, While girt he goes from his loved Theban mother To ward the Argive spear.

STROPHE I.
CHORUS.
May the gods protect our champion!
Be the cause of Right his shield!
But I fear to see the breathless
Bleeding bodies of true warriors
Strewn upon the battle field.

MESSENGER. Speed well your pious prayers! The lot hath placed Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate,[n26] A giant warrior mightier than the first, And boasting more than mortal. His high threats May never Chance[f13] fulfil! for with the aid Of gods, or in the gods' despite, he vows To sack the city, and sets the bolted wrath Of Jove at nought, his lightnings and his thunders Recking no more--so speaks the vauntful tongue-- Than vulgar noonday heat. His orbéd shield The blazon of a naked man displays, Shaking a flaring torch with lofty threat In golden letters--I WILL BURN THE CITY. Such is the man: who shall not quail before A pride that flings defiance to the gods?

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ETEOCLES. Here, too, we meet the strong with something stronger. When men are proud beyond the mark of right, They do proclaim with forward tongue their folly, Themselves their own accuser. This brave Capaneus With empty threats and wordy exercise, Fights mortal 'gainst immortals, and upcasts Loud billowy boasts in Jove's high face. But I In Jove have faith that he will smite this boaster With flaming bolts, to vulgar heat of noon In no wise like. The gallant Polyphontus, A man of glowing heart, against this blusterer I'll send, himself a garrison to pledge Our safety, by the grace of Artemis, And the protecting gods. Name now the others.

ANTISTROPHE I.
CHORUS.
Perish, with his boasts, the boaster,
By strong thunder prostrate laid!
Never, never may I see him
Into holy homes of virgins
Rushing, with his godless blade!

MESSENGER. Hear more. The third lot to Eteocles Leapt from the upturned brazen helm,[n27] and fixed him At the Netaean gate.[n28] His eager steeds, Their frontlets tossed in the breeze, their swelling nostrils High-snorting with the impatient blast of war, Their bridles flapping with barbaric clang, He curbs, and furious 'gainst the city wheels them, Even as a whirling storm. His breadth of shield, Superbly rounded, shows an armed man Scaling a city, with this proud device, NOT MARS HIMSELF SHALL HURL ME FROM THESE TOWERS. Choose thou a champion worthy to oppose This haughty chief, and pledge his country's weal.

ETEOCLES. Fear not: with happy omen, I will send, Have sent already, one to meet this foe, Whose boasts are deeds, brave Megareus, a son Of the dragon's race, a warrior recking nothing The snortings of impatient steeds. This man Will, with his heart's blood, pay the nursing fee Due to his Theban mother,[f14] or come back-- Which grant the gods!--bearing on that proud shield {276} Rich spoil to garnish forth his father's halls, The painted champion, and the painted city, And him that living bore the false-faced sign. Now name the fourth, and spare me not your boasts.

STROPHE II.
CHORUS.
May the gods protect my champion!
Ruin seize the ruthless foe!
As they boast to raze the city,
So may Jove with wrathful vengeance
Lay their frenzied babblings low!

MESSENGER. The fourth's Hippomedon. Before the gate He stands of Onca Pallas, clamouring on With lordly port. His shield's huge round he waved, (Fearful to view), a halo not a shield. No vulgar cunning did his hand possess Who carved the dread device upon its face, Typhon, forth-belching, from fire-breathing mouth, Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame;[n29] And round its hollow belly was embossed[n30] A ring of knotted snakes. Himself did rage, Shouting for battle, by the god of war Indwelt,[n31] and, like a Maenad, his dark eyes Look fear. Against this man be doubly armed, For, where he is, grim Fear is with him.

ETEOCLES. Onca Herself will guard the gate that bears her name, From her own ramparts hurl the proud assailer, And shield her nurslings from this crested snake. Hyperbius, the right valiant son of Oenops, Shall stand against this foe, casting his life Into the chance of war; in lordly port, In courage, in all the accoutrements of fight Hippomedon's counterpart--a hostile pair Well matched by Hermes.[n32] But no equal match Their shields display--two hostile gods--the one Fire-breathing Typhon, father Jove the other, Erect, firm-planted, in his flaming hand Grasping red thunder, an unvanquished god. Such are the gods beneath whose wing they fight, For us the strong, for them the weaker power. And as the gods are, so the men shall be That on their aid depend. If Jove hath worsted {277} This Typhon in the fight, we too shall worst Our adverse. Shall the king of gods not save The man whose shield doth bear the SAVIOUR JOVE.

ANTISTROPHE II.
CHORUS.
Earth-born Typhon, hateful monster,
Sight that men and gods appals,
Whoso bears in godless blazon
Great Jove's foe, shall Jove almighty
Dash his head against the walls.

MESSENGER. So grant the gods! The fifth proud foe is stationed Before the Borean gate, hard by the tomb Of the Jove-born Amphion. By his spear He swears, his spear more dear to him than gods, Or light of day, that he will sack the city In Jove's despite: thus speaks half-man, half-boy, The fair-faced scion of a mountain mother. The manly down, luxuriant, bushy, sprouts Full from his blooming cheek: no virgin he In aspect, though most virgin-like his name.[f15] Keen are his looks, and fierce his soul; he too Comes not without a boast against the gates; For on his shield, stout forgery of brass, A broad circumference of sure defence, He shows, in mockery of Cadméan Thebes, The terrible Sphynx, in gory food delighting, Hugely embossed, with terror brightly studded, And in her mortal paw the monster rends A Theban man: for which reproachful sign Thick-showered the bearer bears the keenest darts,-- Parthenopæus, bold Arcadian chief. No man seems he to shame the leagues he travelled By petty war's detail. Not born an Argive, In Argos nursed, he now her love repays, By fighting 'gainst her foes. His threats--the god Grant they be only threats!

ETEOCLES. Did they receive What punishment their impious vaunts deserve, Ruin with one wide swoop should swamp them all. This braggart stripling, fresh from Arcady, The brother of Hyperbius shall confront, Actor, a man whose hand pursues its deed, {278} Not brandishing vain boasts. No enemy, Whose strength is in his tongue, shall sap these walls, While Actor has a spear: nor shall the man Who bears the hated portent on his shield Enter our gate, but rather the grim sign Frown on its bearer, when thick-rattling hail Showered from our walls shall dint it. If the gods Are just, the words I speak are prophecy.

STROPHE III.
CHORUS.
The eager cry doth rend my breast,
And on end stands every hair,
When I hear the godless vaunting
Of unholy men! May Até
Fang them in her hopeless snare!

MESSENGER. The sixth a sober man, a seer of might, Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth,[n33] And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus, Rating him murderer, teacher of all ill To Argos, troubler of the city's peace, The Furies' herald, crimson slaughter's minion, And councillor of folly to Adrastus. Thy brother too, the might of Polynices, He whips with keen reproaches, and upcasts With bitter taunts his evil-omened name, Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.[n34] O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries, To blot thy native soil with war, and lead A foreign host against thy country's gods! Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant tale For future years to tell! Most specious right, To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprung Thy traitor life! How canst thou hope to live A ruler well acknowledged in the land, That thou hast wounded with invading spear? Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread, Shall feed with prophet's blood. I hope to die, Since die I must, an undishonoured death. Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb'd shield Of solid brass, but plain, without device. Of substance studious, careless of the show, The wise man is what fools but seem to be,[n35] Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soil {279} Of quiet thought, the mother of great deeds. Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meet The wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the gods Is fearful to oppose.

ETEOCLES. Alas! the fate That mingles up the godless and the just In one companionship! wise was the man Who taught that evil converse is the worst Of evils, that death's unblest fruit is reaped By him who sows in Até's fields.[f16] The man Who, being godly, with ungodly men And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark, He, when the god-detested crew goes down, Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When One righteous man is common citizen With godless and unhospitable men, One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net Snare bad and good. Even so, Oïcleus' son, This sober, just, and good, and pious man, This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he, Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men In his own despite--so Jove hath willed--shall lead Down to the distant city of the dead The murky march with them. He will not even Approach the walls, so I may justly judge. No dastard soul is his, no wavering will; But well he knows, if Loxias' words bear fruit, (And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb) Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear. Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true, Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye, Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!

ANTISTROPHE III.
CHORUS.
May the gods our just entreaties
For the cause of Cadmus hear!
Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,
Sit enthroned upon our rampires,
Darting bolts, and darting fear!

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MESSENGER. Against the seventh gate the seventh chief Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices; And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls, By herald's voice Thebes' rightful prince proclaimed, Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand He vows to encounter thee, and either die Himself in killing thee, or should he live And spare thy recreant life, he will repay Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes, To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield, New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand, He bears this double blazonry--a woman Leading with sober pace an armed man All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription, "I, JUSTICE, BRING THIS INJURED EXILE BACK, TO CLAIM HIS PORTION IN HIS FATHER'S HALL." Such are the strange inventions of the foe. Choose thou a man that's fit to meet thy brother; Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says: To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!

ETEOCLES. O god-detested! god-bemadded race![n36] Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus! Your father's curse is ripe! but tears are vain, And weeping might but mother worser woe. O Polynices! thy prophetic name Speaks more than all the emblems of thy shield; Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee, Babbling vain madness in a proud device. If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might be Of thoughts and deeds like thine participant, Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never, Or when the darkness of the mother's womb Thou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime, Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gathering Of beard on manhood's chin, hath Justice owned thee, Or known thy name; and shall she know thee now Thou leadst a stranger host against thy country? Her nature were a mockery of her name If she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice. In this faith strong, this traitor I will meet {281} Myself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it. For equal prince to prince, to brother brother, Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms! Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves!

[_Exit_ MESSENGER.

CHORUS. Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrath Wax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide! Let the Cadméans with the Argives fight; This is enough: their blood may be atoned. But, when a brother falls by brother's hands, Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.

ETEOCLES. If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame, Bear it: but if to bear is to be base, Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.

STROPHE IV.
CHORUS.
Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,
Tame the madness of thy blood;
Ere it bear a crimson blossom,
Pluck thy passion in the bud.

ETEOCLES. Fate urges on; the god will have it so.[n37] Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail, Abhorred by Phœbus, down Cocytus' stream!

ANTISTROPHE IV.
CHORUS.
Let not ravening rage consume thee!
Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;
Sate thy hunger with the thousands,
But of brother's blood beware!

ETEOCLES. The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks, Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes, _Death is thy only gain, and death to-day_ _Is better than to-morrow!_[n38]

STROPHE V.
CHORUS.
Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;
To the gods with incense come,
And the storm-clad black Erinnys
Passes by thy holy home.

ETEOCLES. The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayers Of Laius' race. Our doom is their delight. 'Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.

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